


Suddenly sound sincere

by silvervelour



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Ice skaters au, coach brooke!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvervelour/pseuds/silvervelour
Summary: Vanessa has to refrain from rolling her eyes. Brooke is stood confidently - Vanessa thinks too confidently - and blinks slowly back at Vanessa. She straightens out her back, tilts her head to the side. Vanessa watches her cautiously, tries to decipher every signal that Brooke’s sending her way.“Why are you here?”. Vanessa gives in.She’s unable to make out whether Brooke’s actually impressed by her skating or if she thinks she’s subpar. Her ever evolving scowl has Vanessa questioning whether Brooke already finds her unbearable, or if Brooke - Brooke Lynn Hytes - is intrigued.Vanessa gets her answer.“I’m your new coach”.“What?”.“You heard me”.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 25
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends!! welcome back!! I've had this planned for a while, and only recently got around to writing it but I'm super excited!! full disclosure that I know very little about skating, this fic is purely for fun and serves as a dedication to the amount of time I've spent watching skating programs on youtube. I've also never written an enemies to lovers b & v style fic before so we'll see how this turns out ! I hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts!!
> 
> and a psa, @ thankyoumissvanjie also wrote a skating au and they know far more about skating than I do (also it's just a damn great fic) so go read that too!!

Vanessa remembers being four years old and telling her mama that she wanted to be a fireman like her dad.

She’d watch him leave the house every day in his uniform, boots laced tightly. She would see clips of him on the local news, proud smile adorning his face. He’d be branded a hero, a good man, and Vanessa fell in love with the sense of comfort his sheer existence provided. He helped, and Vanessa wanted to do the same.

She remembers being five, too, and changing her mind, telling her that she’d like to be a painter instead, because fires were scary and colours were pretty.

Her dad had gotten hurt, had been forced to take an early retirement. She’s able to recall buying a set of paints at the craft store with her mama, and taking them home to her dad when he was confined to the couch. They’d painted pictures for hours and Vanessa grew obsessed with greens and blues and purples and pinks that were signs of change.

But Vanessa also remembers being six, and stepping onto an ice rink for the first time.

 _Properly_.

Her aunt had taken her to the rink at the Christmas market out of town. Vanessa had convinced her after only ten minutes on the ice to pay for another half an hour, followed by another. And another.

She’d found her own way around the perimeters of the rink, had abandoned her aunt who spent her time clinging to the barrier. Vanessa looped her way in figures of eights around the space, had flourished even with the safety guarded blades. A smile never dropped from her face and her aunt knew.

It had been an instant feeling.

Vanessa’s mama had signed her up to their most local centre the following week.

It was meant to be fun, a hobby. Because Vanessa had found enjoyment in twirling and spinning playfully, had laughed off each bump and graze left on her skin.

Vanessa hadn’t expected to land in the palms of a coach - _Chris_ \- who’d nurture her joy and turn it into a passion. She couldn’t have predicted eventually competing for her district, and then her state, riding the highs and lows that came along with it.

Her mama had been there throughout, cheering her on from the sidelines. She’d drive Vanessa to and from each practice until she’d gotten her own license, had payed for every costume and physio session that Vanessa had sworn to repay.

And she did.

Vanessa persuaded her neighbour - Nina - to offer up a part time job at the cafe that she owned in their town. Nina had agreed begrudgingly, despite her adoration for Vanessa and her mama. Vanessa hadn’t blamed her; she’d been questionable at best, always dropping cutlery and spilling drinks.

She’d barely lasted a year at Nina’s cafe during her last year of high school, but she was proud regardless. Proud for being able to pay her mama back in some way, and proud for realising that skating was what she knew.

What she wanted.

Making it to sectionals that same year had proven so even more.

There, she’d ranked second.

 _Second_.

Vanessa had beaten herself up about it, had sat rink side and cried about not getting first until Chris had delivered the news. second had been enough to guarantee her a place at nationals.

And nationals was one step away from the olympics.

Which was one step away from world championships.

It was then that Vanessa had decided to not allow it to feel like a far off dream.

*****

Vanessa had set her eyes on gold and only gold.

And she’d come close, a few times.

She’d tabled fourth two olympics in a row, had been minuscule points behind snagging bronze in the pairs skate.

Chris reassured her over numerous sessions that focusing on her partnered skating would benefit her abilities. Vanessa can’t deny that he had been right. She’s improved over the years, without question, and doesn’t miss the uncertainty of skating solo, either.

Vanessa only misses _winning_.

It’s why she’s the first person back at the training rink on the first day of the new year.

The holidays have been, gone, vanished into the bin with crumpled up wrapping paper. Vanessa had spent the days itching to get back onto the ice, craving the freedom it awarded her. She’d loaded up her gym bag with her skates and overclothes, had driven down the icy high way with excitement in her veins.

She’d swiped her membership card through the doors, had laced her skates and made her way onto the ice with not a soul in sight.

All before six in the morning.

Chris isn’t there, yet, but Vanessa has no doubt that he will be. He’s attended every single one of her practice sessions for the past decade, has encouraged her throughout. He’s been present on the ice even when he needn’t be; her skating partner Dane had questioned why but Vanessa had appreciated it.

He’d gone as far to send her a Christmas card for her entire family, along with a crate of home made muffins. Vanessa had watched her family devour them, and had sent Chris a thank you card in return. Vanessa’s mama had scrawled her own message in the corner of said card, and it had made Vanessa laugh.

**_Dearest angel Chris, the muffins were damn wonderful. I’ll be expecting more asap so I can sit on the benches and watch you and V clowning around with a face full of chocolate cake. Happy holidays!!_ **

Vanessa stretches out her muscles, warms up her body as she glides around the ice. She’d hit play on the music before beginning but the songs that are playing playing playing sound like static to her ears. The melodies aren’t important as she practices her backward crossovers, attempts a basic toe loop.

And lands it.

She takes it as a good sign.

Vanessa hasn’t skated in weeks, and though she knows it’s impossible to forget her years worth of training in such a short amount of time, there’s always the possibility of failing. Falling. Fumbling. 

Failing because of a minuscule mistake, a wrong footing. Stumbling because of an over rotation or wrongly positioned arms. Vanessa knows that the miscalculations are endless and it’s why she grins to herself as she lands the next one, followed by the next, and the next.

She lets out an audible cheer, and the music cuts.

Vanessa chuckles at the absurdity of it, but then a noise breaks through.

A slow applause.

It comes from the barrier, and Vanessa whips her head around towards it.

She comes to a stop on her blades, squints her eyes until she’s able to see. She allows her hands to drop to her side, flicks the length of her ponytail behind her shoulder. It tickles at the skin of her neck but it’s the least of Vanessa’s worries when -

\- There’s a woman watching her.

Vanessa catches herself doing a double take, blinking and skating a fraction of the way closer. She’s stood mere feet from the woman, and is able to take in her appearance; she’s all red lipstick and short platinum hair and Vanessa doesn’t understand it in the slightest.

She’s unable to comprehend why the woman looks like that, and is dressed in black spandex that is skin tight at six in the morning. Her face is stoic, almost stern, and Vanessa wonders briefly if her skin would crack like the ice beneath her feet if she were to offer up a smile.

“Impressive-“. The woman comments.

“-Although, _definitely_ room for improvement”. She snarks.

Vanessa grits her teeth.

She doesn’t want to believe it, and therefor doesn’t, at first. She convinces herself that the woman standing in front of her, arms leant on the barrier, isn’t a four time olympian. She tells herself that she hasn’t won four world championships either, despite knowing that she has, with certainty.

Vanessa feels her breath catch in her throat and coughs, crosses her arms defensively.

“Who are you to judge?”. She bites.

Only she already knows.

_Brooke Lynn Hytes._

“I think you already know who I am”. Brooke scoffs.

Vanessa has to refrain from rolling her eyes. Brooke is stood confidently - Vanessa thinks too confidently - and blinks slowly back at Vanessa. She straightens out her back, tilts her head to the side. Vanessa watches her cautiously, tries to decipher every signal that Brooke’s sending her way.

“Why are you here?”. Vanessa gives in.

She’s unable to make out whether Brooke’s actually impressed by her skating or if she thinks she’s subpar. Her ever evolving scowl has Vanessa questioning whether Brooke already finds her unbearable, or if Brooke - _Brooke Lynn Hytes_ \- is intrigued.

Vanessa gets her answer.

“I’m your new coach”.

“ _What_?”.

“You heard me”.

Vanessa had.

The fact doesn’t stop her from huffing. Her eyes grow wide, and her jaw drops. Vanessa stares Brooke down who she knows is holding in a sarcastic laugh, and curses herself for wobbling on her skates. She shuffles forward, until she’s all but an arms length away from Brooke; Brooke outstretches her hand but Vanessa doesn’t take it.

“I-“. Vanessa starts.

She’s able to feel her blood boiling, working up a simmer.

“-What the _fuck_ qualifies you? Where’s Chris?”. She bursts.

Vanessa knows that she’s being irrational, but the smirk upon Brooke’s face has her clenching her fists at her side. She skates further forward, but regrets her decision when Brooke is there, still looking brash and arrogant and -

\- Vanessa feels herself blushing.

“Chris called me, _personally_ -“. Brooke responds pointedly.

“-He’s taking time out for his family”.

Vanessa thinks that it’s stupid.

“This is ridiculous”. She voices.

Vanessa’s nails dig into the palms of her hands. She scrunches them tighter, and Brooke notices. Her eyes travel across Vanessa’s frame, pausing briefly at her hands that she’s quick to reposition. She places them frustratedly on her hips, crosses her legs at the ankles.

Licking across her teeth, Vanessa begins contemplating. She knows logically that Brooke is good, better than good. Brooke is experienced, skilful, and Vanessa would have given anything to be coached by somebody as prestigious at one point. But she’s grown comfortable, has become accustomed to what she knows.

It’s why Vanessa remains uncertain even as Brooke looks bored out of her skin.

“But-“. Vanessa protests.

“-Nationals are in a couple of months!”.

 _Nationals_.

Her ticket to the olympics.

“I know-“. Brooke laughs.

It’s a laugh that tells Vanessa that she’s as bored as she looks.

“-Been there, done that”. Brooke’s lips curl into a fonder smile.

Or so Vanessa thinks.

If it had been a fond smile, it’s gone as quick as it had appeared. Neither mention it, but Vanessa allows her fists to relax. She shakes out her shoulders, awaits the words that she can see brewing up within Brooke. Vanessa uncrosses her ankles once more, plants her blades firmly.

“Look-“. Brooke settles bitterly.

“-I’ve been doing this for longer and better than you ever will. I can get you to nationals, even the olympics and worlds if you get your act together. It won’t be easy, you’re getting too old for this, but I wouldn’t be here if Chris didn’t believe in you”.

Vanessa’s still unable to deduce Brooke and her conflicting messages.

There’s a backhanded compliment in one breath and an insult that stings in the next. Vanessa knows that she’s getting older, but knows that she’s good for it. She also knows that it won’t be easy, and understands that Chris does believe in her. Brooke arches an eyebrow, looks on expectantly.

Vanessa thinks that she has her answer.

“ _Fine_ ”. Vanessa confirms.

She’s going to do it.

“Good-“. Brooke nods.

Brooke’s going to be her _coach_.

“-Now, off the ice. We’re starting in the gym”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anybody ever tell you you’re a rude ass bitch, Brooke Lynn?”. Vanessa voices.
> 
> “Oh, plenty-”. Brooke nods.
> 
> She has a content smile plastered across her face and Vanessa wants to wipe it off of her.
> 
> “-But what’s your point?”. She questions.
> 
> Vanessa grits her teeth, and thinks that it’s a wonder she hasn’t begun wearing them down yet. She skates backwards, away from Brooke, and clenches her hands into fists. There are imprints left on her palms from where her nails dig into the skin and it’s then that Vanessa accepts that they’re going to be there for as long as Brooke’s around.
> 
> She’s infuriating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me??? Updating this quickly ??? That’s what self isolation in a pandemic does to a gal! This one is proving super fun to write, and I hope it’s even just a little light in these gross times for anybody reading. Let me know your thoughts lovelies!!

“Mateo, fix your lines!”.

Brooke has been coaching Vanessa for a week. 

And Vanessa’s never _hated_ anybody before, but she thinks Brooke might be a first.

“Fix your damn attitude first!”. Vanessa snaps. 

She’s been on the rink for two hours, since seven o’clock. Brooke has been skating laps around her, wearing the same black spandex that she’d shown up in the first day. Her lips are still painted a deep shade of red that never fades, never smudges as she commands each of Vanessa’s movements.

Her hair is slicked back, off of her face, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the way that her skin is as pale as the ice beneath the layers of bronzer and blush that she has dusted across her cheeks. Vanessa’s own choice of minimal makeup and a high ponytail pale in comparison but it isn’t important.

“Who pissed you off this morning?”. Brooke snickers.

She skates to a stop, stands next to Vanessa who has her elbows resting on her knees. Vanessa doubts she’d be capable of hiding either her exhaustion or frustration if she tried; Brooke is looking down on her like she’s god herself and Vanessa doesn’t like it.

Vanessa despises it.

“You did-“. Vanessa stands.

“- _You_ pissed me off when you decided it’d be a fuckin’ great idea to have me training without my partner less than four months before nationals!”. She exclaims.

Brooke shakes her head, sighs impatiently. Vanessa’s able to hear her retaliation before she even says it.

“Oh come on now-“. Brooke drawls.

“-Dane’s ready for nationals, you’re not. You need work, you know that”. Her words are condescending.

Vanessa knows that she’s right, and doesn’t deny it. Vanessa is rough around the edges whereas Dane is polished, practiced. The fact doesn’t make the sting of Brooke’s words hurt any less, but she knows she’s able to improve, is already improving. 

Brooke doesn’t let her have a minute off when she’s in her presence, and despite hating her to her core, Vanessa’s able to acknowledge its benefits. They’d started in the gym, where Vanessa had soaked through her shirt in sweat. She’d been breathless, exhausted, and Brooke had merely laughed it off.

She’d told Vanessa she’d see her at the same time the following day, except this time on the ice.

And she _had_.

It’s been over a week since then, and Vanessa’s already skating laps around the ice quicker and more efficient than she has in years. Brooke’s able to follow her with ease. She skates a foot behind Vanessa, taps at Vanessa’s wrists when her extensions become sloppy.

She pokes at the small of her back when her posture dips too and Vanessa’s body shivers with what she thinks is distain, what she knows is distain. Brooke doesn’t appear any more pleased than she is about the situation and huffs when she finds herself critiquing Vanessa’s placements for the tenth time in the hour.

“Did all those medals go to your head?”. Vanessa bites.

Brooke rolls her eyes, plants a firm hand on Vanessa’s shoulder as they come to a stop in the centre of the rink.

“At least one of us has medals”. She retaliates. 

Vanessa shrugs her hand off of her shoulder. It feels like a flame that’s scorching her, hatred burning in her gut. Brooke looks glad for it yet takes a step closer to Vanessa. She towers over her, and imbalance of power isn’t lost on Vanessa.

“I have medals”. Vanessa seethes.

It’s true. She _does_. But she also knows that they don’t hold a candle to how decorated Brooke is. Vanessa owns a whole bookcase of medals and trophies alike, but few of them come from nationals and none are credited to stints at the olympics or worlds.

“What, plastic ones?”. Brooke chuckles.

Vanessa knows that it’s meant to hurt her, but it doesn’t. Not this time around. She’s growing used to Brooke’s unnecessary comments even if she knows she shouldn’t have to. Brooke is out of line, unquestionably, but she’s Vanessa’s coach. She’s Vanessa’s coach that Chris had called for specifically.

So she deals with it.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a rude ass bitch, Brooke Lynn?”. Vanessa voices.

“Oh, plenty-”. Brooke nods.

She has a content smile plastered across her face and Vanessa wants to wipe it off of her.

“-But what’s your point?”. She questions.

Vanessa grits her teeth, and thinks that it’s a wonder she hasn’t begun wearing them down yet. She skates backwards, away from Brooke, and clenches her hands into fists. There are imprints left on her palms from where her nails dig into the skin and it’s then that Vanessa accepts that they’re going to be there for as long as Brooke’s around.

She’s infuriating.

“Whatever-“. Vanessa chooses to brush it off.

“-When can I train with Dane again?”. She asks.

“Oh baby-“. Brooke shakes her head mockingly.

“-Ask me that again when you go a full session without making a mistake”.

*****

The next day, Brooke is even colder.

It’s a feat that Vanessa didn’t think possible.

She forgoes any greeting when Vanessa steps onto the rink, gives her a once over that’s bone chilling. Vanessa offers a wave that isn’t reciprocated and says no more. Brooke states purposefully to the opposite side of the rink and doesn’t utter a word until Vanessa clears her throat.

“You’re late”. Brooke scowls.

“I sent you a text to let you know-”. Vanessa argues.

The look that Brooke gives her tells her that she doesn’t care.

“-My car broke down, had to get a cab”. She rationalises.

Brooke’s stare is still vacant, bored. She loops around the perimeter of the rink until she’s face to face with Vanessa, offers up a sigh that feels like the breath of winter. Vanessa feels it breeze past her face and curses the shiver that trails up her neck and down her spine.

“I didn’t ask for your life story”. Brooke clicks her tongue against her teeth.

Vanessa notices the way that her red lips press together, irritatingly, and part slowly with an arrogance that she wouldn’t miss if it were to vanish completely. Brooke smirks when her gaze lingers for a second too long and cocks her head to the side. Vanessa snorts indignantly; Brooke is antagonising and she knows it.

“Yeah, well-“. Vanessa twists on her blades.

“-If _you_ had checked your phone I wouldn’t have had to tell you”.

Brooke ignores her.

She ignores Vanessa. 

Her thumb hits play on the remote she has in hand.

It controls the speakers that are dotted above the rink, and Vanessa doesn’t recognise the melody that begins emanating from them. It’s something nondescript, whimsical. The irony of the contrast between the atmosphere and the song isn’t lost on Vanessa and she lets out a giggle that she’s unable to contain.

“I don’t bring my phone on the ice-“. Brooke only speaks again when she’s half way across the rink.

“-It’s unprofessional”. She snaps.

Vanessa’s unable to find the energy to quarrel. 

So she skates, skates the best that she’s ever skated around Brooke. She tells herself it’s not because of Brooke’s words but knows that she’s lying through her teeth. She perfects every cross over and nails every toe loop, because Brooke’s eyes are on her, judging her. They’re harsh, scrutinising, and don’t relent even when the sessions finished, and Brooke’s forced to offer up a begrudging _good job_.

“Yeah-“. Vanessa mutters, albeit under her breath.

“-Good job, Vanessa”.

*****

The first thing Vanessa does when she’s by herself in the locker rooms is call her mama.

There’s an ache in her chest that won’t dissipate and an itch on her skin that keeps flaring up the more she thinks of Brooke Brooke Brooke. Vanessa is nearing thirty, but she wants her mama - Annabelle - needs the familiarity. It’s why she calls with bated breath and trembling hands, settles onto a bench.

She stares at the ground, waits with the dial tone in her ear.

Her mama answers in seconds.

“Mija?-”. She greets.

“-Everything alright?”.

Vanessa’s still seething.

“I fucking _hate_ that bitch”.

She doesn’t give her mama time to ask questions, or even begin to understand. She starts rambling aimlessly, taps her foot anxiously. Words pour from her mouth like water and she’s drowning herself in the feelings that encompass her body. Her mama hums along occasionally but Vanessa still doesn’t stop.

“She’s so self righteous, has the ego of a fuckin’ demon. Mama, I’m telling you, I ain’t ever met somebody so insufferable as she is, and I’m stuck with her for who the fuck knows how long! What if this hoe comes and slashes my throat with her skates while I’m asleep? Huh?”. She dramatises.

Vanessa knows that she’s exaggerating, partly. Brooke is self righteous, and does have an ego that’s off putting whether she’s earned it or not. Vanessa believes she’s beyond insufferable, and would be glad to never lay her eyes on her perfectly styled hair or impeccable posture ever again.

Her mama simply chuckles.

“You talking about that new coach of yours? Brittney?”.

“Brooke”. Vanessa corrects.

“Sounds white”. Annabelle laughs.

“She the human version of magnolia paint”. Vanessa notes.

And it makes her feel lighter.

Her leg stops jumping and her heart rate settles. She stops breathing as heavily as she had been and listens to her mama who’s telling her not to worry, to be calm. Vanessa wants to laugh at the absurdity of it and does; this woman who she’s known for a week and who she’s going to have to know for a lot longer has her blood boiling out of her years.

It’s stupid.

Vanessa wants to kick herself but refrains when her mama chortles once more.

“Are you sure it’s hate?”. Vanessa’s able to hear Annabelle’s smirk through the phone. 

“Hold up-“. Vanessa’s wide eyed.

“-You don’t think I like this bitch, do ‘ya?”.

Vanessa’s unable to believe her mamas audacity. She lets out a bark of laughter that echoes against the walls of lockers, makes her recoil and shiver. Her palms are growing clammy, and she wipes them on the fabric of her pants, listens to her mama squealing in her ear.

“I don’t know”. Annabelle drawls.

And of course.

“Unbelievable-”. Vanessa huffs.

“I tell you I want to rip her face off and this is how you act? Criminal, truly”. Vanessa jokes.

They’re both laughing freely.

Annabelle allows Vanessa the space that she needs to vent, and Vanessa is grateful for it. She knows that she couldn’t have called her friends Silky or Akeria with the problem, or even her skating partner Dane. They’d either be too curious and questioning or too understanding and kind.

Vanessa needs honesty, doesn’t need interrogating.

She gets that in her mama.

“Just behave, Vanessa Mateo-“. Annabelle warns.

“-I don’t want to be getting no calls from Chris telling me you slapped the new coach he hired. You listening?”. She chuckles.

“I know”. Vanessa sighs.

So she makes her promises.

She tells her mama that she’ll be good, that she won’t trip Brooke over midway through a session no matter how much she wants to. She swears that she’ll try her hardest not to be put off by Brooke’s comments and will spend additional time on and off the rink perfecting her skills.

Even if it’s just what her mama wants to hear.

“Call me tomorrow, sweetie”. Annabelle says her goodbyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I will, swear. Love you, mama”.

*****

Anger and frustration are still thrumming quietly in Vanessa’s stomach when she ends the call. 

She busies herself with stripping out of her clothing that’s sweat soaked, suffocating her skin. The locker rooms are all but empty with the exemption of two girls in the corner and Vanessa doesn’t care; she’s confident in her body and stalks to the other side of the room with a towel wrapped haphazardly around her frame.

Her feet make a beeline for the shower.

Vanessa wants the heat of the water to replace the fire in her bones. She longs for the searing sensation against her back, her chest, needs the feeling she gets afterward when she steps out of the shower, is met with the cold air.

She wants the goosebumps on her skin, and she gets them.

Just not in the way that she had anticipated.

Because her eyes land on Brooke. 

Vanessa’s mouth becomes try and her palms become sweatier. Brooke is stood there, in front of her, having neglected to draw the shower curtain. Her back is facing Vanessa, but she’s nude, dripping in water and shower gel; Vanessa’s eyes are entranced by the way she twists her waist and angles her hips towards the stream of water.

She shouldn’t be looking, Vanessa knows.

Everything within her is telling her to _walk away walk away walk away_ , and yet her body remains stationary. She clutches her towel tighter to her chest, gulps as her eyes trail over the swell of Brooke’s ass, the muscles of her legs that seem to go on and on and -

\- Vanessa hates her for it.

Her knuckles are going white from how tightly she’s gripping her towel, and she’d be concerned about tearing it if it wasn’t for the fact that Brooke’s turning, twisting further, and her eyes are meeting Vanessa’s.

Vanessa swallows, hard.

She hasn’t looked at Brooke as intently thus far. They’ve been too busy arguing, disagreeing over practice arrangements and potential routines for Vanessa to spend longer than she needs to looking into Brooke’s eyes. But now that she is, it’s startling.

Brooke is staring at her and Vanessa is staring right back. It’s then that Brooke has the nerve to wink and Vanessa’s throat has never been dryer but her thighs are growing slick.

She hates it.

“You good, Mateo?”. Brooke smirks.

Vanessa isn’t.

“ _Fine_ ”. Vanessa huffs. 

Brooke doesn’t look convinced, and Vanessa doesn’t blame her. She’s not ok, is far from it. She can feel her knees growing weaker and has to force herself to turn and walk away before they give in on her. Brooke watches her with a glint in her and Vanessa is furious.

She switches her own shower to freezing instead of scalding like she had planned.

Because she despises it.

Despises _Brooke_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also back on Tumblr @ silverhytes !


End file.
